


Earn Your Stripes

by d0g-bless (d0gbless)



Series: A New Breed of Training [12]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Body Dysphoria, Body Image, Body Worship, Depression, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Postpartum Depression, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 17:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14958971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d0gbless/pseuds/d0g-bless
Summary: In which Pidge struggles with her postpartum body and Shiro attempts to lavish her with praise.





	Earn Your Stripes

**Author's Note:**

> A request from xpyzkx on tumblr based on an ask meme: "Can you get pickles, pizza and ice cream?"
> 
> This might not be what you had in mind, but I decided to take a slightly different route. Hope that's OK.

Narrowed golden eyes scrutinized the person glaring back at them. Was Pidge’s doppelgänger the one passing judgment or was it she herself judging her reflection? Who was judging whom?

Her eyes, still red-rimmed from days of crying, felt heavy with the bags they carried beneath them and lack of sleep. She pressed her cracked lips into a hard line, like she was holding back a stinging insult. Nostrils flared in the exhale of a deep breath. The sharp angles of her face had rounded, softened with extra fat, making her look like a cherub in a Rubens painting. She wanted to hide it all behind unkempt hair, knotted with tangles from the back of her scalp down to her lower back.

Pidge tugged at the nursing bra strap that had dug its way into her shoulder. The nurses hadn’t cleared Sammy for breast- or bottle-feeding yet, so she didn’t exactly need it yet. But it was the most comfortable bra she owned at the moment if it weren’t for the stupid strap.

She could tell that her headlights were on through the bra cup, practically screaming for someone to latch on and nurse from them. Veins snaked their way out from her oversensitive nipples and wormed their way around her swollen tits.

Her twin in the mirror stepped to the side as she did to get a better angle of her mound of a belly, fingers tracing fiery red stretch marks streaking across her midsection that was somehow both fat and flabby at once.

To top all of this off was hospital-issued (fine, more like hospital-stolen) mesh underwear, and Pidge knew she was the ugliest looking creature on Earth.

She wasn’t vain, but Pidge took pride in the fact that she’d managed to be fit and trim. She wasn’t a model — far too short and had once been too flat for that — but she’d been pretty at the very least. Beautiful if anyone asked Shiro.

She just had to go and get herself pregnant, didn’t she? And her stupid, stupid body couldn’t even carry her daughter to full term. Couldn’t she at least look decent-ish now? She knew the pregnancy weight wouldn’t magically vanish after giving birth. After all, she still looked huge and pregnant days after the delivery. But who had time for working out after that? Not Pidge, that was for certain.

Okay, maybe she had a little time. She planned to attempt to go back to work the next week. Besides, it wasn’t like Sammy would be allowed home anytime soon. Now was the perfect time to go on walks or lift weights or something. But no, she chose to wallow in misery and mope around the house or fret over Sammy in the hospital for hours on end.

Pathetic. That’s what she was.

Metal glinted off the bathroom mirror, temporarily blinding Pidge. By the time her vision returned, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around her waist and a familiar fascial structure bury itself in the top of her head. “Morning, gorgeous,” Shiro mumbled into her hair.

Pidge gave an indignant snort. The poor man was clearly half-asleep, calling her gorgeous in her bloated and veiny post-partum state. “Hello to you, too.”

Shiro pressed a kiss to his wife’s temple. “I mean it, you know.”

Curiosity forced thick brows upward and an “Oh?” out of her mouth.

Shiro made contact with his reflection by pointing at the mirror. The soft _clink_ of a metal digit touching glass sent shivers down Pidge’s spine. “You’re making the same look I did when I first took off my shirt after you guys found me in the desert.”

Heat rose to Pidge’s face. It had been so hard _not_ to stare at him that night. It’d gotten to the point that Lance kept asking her if she was gay, along with Hunk reassuring her that if she was, he still was her friend.

While the Shiro she’d known before Kerberos was in good shape, the Shiro she and her friends had rescued had rippled with muscle and sinew. He’d been good looking before Kerberos, but this? This man standing before her looked unreal.

“I could hardly recognize myself with the shock of white hair and the scars. I kept thinking that no one would like me. I looked scary, not like me. My body was — still is — pretty much all scar tissue, plus there was the whole alien arm thing to take into account.”

“All I saw was muscle,” Pidge admitted. "I didn’t notice the scars all that much, not until we started sleeping together. They never bothered me.” She ran a finger over on Shiro’s reflection, where there had once been an ugly gash on his shoulder. “In fact, I thought they were beautiful. Each one tells a story, even if you and I don’t know it. They show you’ve been through a lot, but you fought to get where you are.”

Her stomach muscles twitched as Shiro’s fingers caressed her stretch marks, starting at Pidge’s navel and tracing them to her sides. “And so do these.”

Pidge folded her flabby arms just below her bust. “What do they tell you?”

Shiro held a finger up to his lips. “Shh, I’m listening. I’ve got to get the details right.” Once he got a slightly annoyed but amused smile out of his wife, he continued. “They’re telling me that you’re strong. Strong enough to carry our daughter for a little over 28 weeks, and that she grew fast in there. I mean, look at how colorful these little stripes are. And she’s bigger than most babies born at 28 weeks, right?”

“To the point that doctors asked me if I’d gotten the conception date right,” Pidge said with a nod. “It’s no wonder I still look pregnant and fat and bloated.”

“You’re not the only one who put on weight.”

Pidge snorted. “Yeah, well, muscle weighs more than fat, and you’re all muscle.”

“I’m serious.” Shiro moved to the side, allowing Pidge to get a better view of his profile. Sure enough, he had a bit of a potbelly, but not enough that anyone would notice it unless they were hunting down Shiro’s physical flaws. “Must’ve been all the pickles, pizza, and ice cream you made me get for you.” His stomach jiggled a little when he patted it.

It wasn’t fair. Why did Shiro still get to be so attractive even after putting on a few pounds while she was stuck looking like this? “I never asked for those,” Pidge grumbled. “Well, maybe I did, but not all three at once.” She wrinkled her nose. “You make it sound like I had weird cravings.”

“You put wasabi peas in a jar of peanut butter and snacked from it with a spoon.” Shiro chuckled a little, then went back to tracing Pidge’s stretch marks. “But that’s not what I’m trying to get at here. Listen, you just gave birth not all that long ago. And all things considered, you look amazing. Besides, these little stripes are beautiful. A wise cartoon tiger once said to earn your stripes. These stretch marks are badges of honor that you’ve earned.”

“I can’t believe you just quoted Tony the Tiger. The fucking Frosted Flakes mascot. What would Black have to say about that? Her Paladin, quoting a tiger?”

Shiro grinned from ear to ear. “I think she’d say that for once, the Green Paladin is wrong in thinking she’s hideous and that she’d make a gorgeous tiger.”

The corners of her lips began to curl up into a smile. As much as Pidge tried to fight it off, she couldn’t. “Well, you’d better watch out since this mama tiger has claws.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “And she is not afraid to use them.”

**Author's Note:**

> ...tfw you write a request and realize you left the dog out of the shidge and a dog series. Oops.


End file.
